Curtain Call
by Nephila
Summary: Originally posted for Christmas in July a couple of years ago! I decided to post it again cause I was tired of it sitting around collecting dust... Harry is getting ready to celebrate Christmas Eve with his closest friends when his worst nightmares come true. The outcome is something no one could have foreseen. Character death.
Okay so this is my favorite story that I have written so far. Even though my Beta called me a bitch for dreaming this up... Lol. So this does have a main character death. That's pretty much what it's about. If you don't want to deal with super sad feels then this probably isn't for you.

Lynnwiley was my beta for this fic. Also I would like to say a BIG thank you to WannabeAnarchist for letting me use her amazing art for my cover photo! Go check out her stuff on Deviantart!

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Harry had just finished placing the last of his decorations. He'd been waiting for his friends to come through the floo and join him for Christmas Eve when he felt the wards around his home fall.

The first curse that crashed through the window had been the bright red of a cutting hex. Followed shortly by the sickly green of the killing curse. He huffed out a humorless laugh. Leave it to Voldemort to add a little Christmas cheer to his killing and torture.

After the first two curses had been sent, Death Eaters had lit up Harry's house with a multitude of curses and hexes. Harry had tried to take cover but quickly realized there were just too many. After sending up a silent prayer to whoever was listening he made a dash for the library where the floo was set up. He could feel himself get hit by at least five different curses before he went down. And another three before he heard the high-pitched cackle of Voldemort himself.

Pushing himself up he pulled out his wand. He didn't know how many curses he sent out or if he even hit anyone before his wand was wrenched from his grasp and flung further into the room. Throwing himself backward he pulled himself up and made his way toward where he thought his wand landed. He'd be damned if he went down without a fight. He dove for it the second he saw it, and wedged himself behind a sofa.

He quickly went over everything he knew. Voldemort was here and there were at least thirty death eaters with him. He figured they were his inner circle. Fantastic… He sent a slew of curses over the top of the couch and smiled in satisfaction when he heard someone hit the floor.

An eerie silence covered everything as he shifted his position. Hissing in pain he pulled his left arm to his chest. It was broken and wasn't going to be of any use to him now. He numbed it and used a sticking charm to keep it out of the way. Raising his wand, he fired another set of curses and kicked away from the couch. Levitating it, he threw it at his attackers pushing them from the room. He ran through the archway into his library when he was hit with another hex to his back. He went down again but pulled himself up on his good arm and clenched his jaw as he crawled forward.

Debris littered his path making it difficult to maneuver. Gaudy decorations and tinsel were strewn about the house making the whole picture, if possible, even more morbid. A large gash to his brow was leaking blood at an alarming rate, making it difficult to focus. He had to get to the fireplace, but large colorful boxes filled with gifts for his family and close friends blocked his path. He would have laughed at his plight if he had the energy to do so.

Harry heard steps slowly making their way toward him as he tried to crawl faster, pushing as much out of his way as he could. Two more boxes and his arm gave out, his upper body slamming into the ground. Glass from a tree ornament cut into his cheek when he landed, but he no longer felt the pain.

He vaguely registered a boot press into his side as he was rolled onto his back. Blearily he looked around himself and numbly took in his surroundings. His Christmas tree was still standing about two feet from where he was lying. Most of the ornaments were missing and the star at the top was broken and hanging to the side. A few of the gifts had kept their place under its branches but most looked like they had been blown up or lit on fire. He watched as a book he had gotten for Hermione that year slowly turned to ash.

A face came into his line of vision when he turned his head away from the tree. Harry grimaced as the Bright red eyes and the scaly paper like skin of Voldemort loomed over him. The man turned creature smirked sadistically as he taunted the young man lying before him. Harry no longer heard his words. He didn't feel the boot pressing into his side, he didn't really even see the destruction around him any more.

He knew he was going to die, that he wouldn't even make it to Christmas morning. Slowly he turned his head back toward the tree taking in as much as he could. Tears leaked from the corners of his eyes as he closed them, bringing up images of his family. How happy they all were… how devastated they would be when they found him.

A shuddering breath left his lips as he mourned. Mourned all the lives that would be taken now that he wouldn't be here to protect them. Mourned the loss of innocence. That children would now have to live their lives in fear.

Regret soon made itself known. He had always sworn to himself that he would never again regret anything that he did or did not do. That everything had a purpose, and even if he didn't understand, he would not regret. But he did. He regretted not being able to live his life. He regretted not finding love. He regretted choosing to hunt down Death Eaters instead of spending time with his chosen family. This feeling consumed him as he lay there.

Loud cheering broke him from his haze and he focused on his surroundings once more. He belatedly realized that Voldemort had been talking this whole time and had to roll his eyes at the man. After all this and the man was still perched on top of his soapbox demanding he be listened to. A wheezing laugh left him before a swift kick to his ribs had him groaning and curling up.

Through the fog in his head he heard the words coming from Voldemort getting louder. He squinted, trying to focus on what was happening around him. All of Voldemort's followers that had accompanied him that night were packed into Harry's library. Most were focused on the Dark Lord, hanging on his every word. Some glanced at him every few seconds, seemingly afraid that he would pop up at any moment and stab their precious leader in the back. He wished he were capable… just to see their faces.

Eventually the long-winded and, in Harry's opinion, over the top speech ended. Voldemort turned to Harry and leveled his wand at the fallen hero. Harry looked into the gleaming red eyes in challenge and without fear. He watched as the tip of the man's wand began to glow green, and as the light left the wand and sped toward him he held the gaze. Surrounded by what felt like burning flames, Harry clenched his teeth and kept his eyes trained on Voldemort. Eventually his head fell back to the ground as the life left his body, but dull eyes stayed trained to the same spot.

With a wave of his hand Voldemort sent his cheering followers away before looking once again to the body lying at his feet. He took the few steps needed to bridge the space between them and slowly crouched down, eyes never leaving his prize. A cruel smile once again covered his face as he took in what had just happened. He had won. His enemy was gone and he was free to rule. No opposition could stand against him now.

He picked up the boys wand and held it in the palm of his hand. So like his own yet so different. It felt strange in his hand, almost uncomfortable. He grasped the ends of it in both hands and snapped it. Standing back up he tossed the broken wand on the floor next to the boy's body before slowly walking away.

Stopping at the door he turned back one last time and grinned. "Merry Christmas Harry Potter."


End file.
